


Fall

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Green Arrow (Comics)
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Addiction, Gen, Heavy Angst, Oliver Queen is a Good Parent, Roy Harper Needs a Hug, Roy is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: It was always more. It was always no more. It was always the last time. It was always a lie.One more shot burning his throat. One more hit clouding his mind. One more body beneath himthat he’d forget all about the next day after a cigarette and a snort of God-only-knew what following it down.In which Roy is a mess after Lian's death.





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals with some intensely heavy subject matter including, but not limited to: drug use, drug addiction, and drug withdrawal. If you have any concerns about a potential trigger, please reach out to me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/luthienluinwe) and I will provide you with appropriate spoilers.

The come-down was the hardest. When the high came crashing back down into a crippling low. When his mind started up again and wouldn’t stop with all the lingering thoughts that he wasn’t good enough and he never would be. When he could see her body cold and still and lifeless. When she wouldn’t move. When the shakes started and his arms itched like he’d never felt them before and his head pounded and his pulse raced and he just wanted to fucking sleep, but sleep would never come.

It was always more. It was always no more. It was always the last time. It was always a lie.

One more shot burning his throat. One more hit clouding his mind. One more body beneath him that he’d forget all about the next day after a cigarette and a snort of God-only-knew what following it down

Oxy. Coke. Crank.

It didn’t fucking matter anymore.

Anything was better than nothing.

More senses dulled.

Another cheap thrill to make him feel even shittier the next day until he could get another fix and forget everything all over again.

Junkie. Burnout. Liar. Whore.

He deserved it.

He deserved every terrible, horrific thing the universe could throw at him.

Anything to never remember.

Anything to never forget.

Five years sobriety flushed down the fucking toilet.

Maybe he’d get lucky.

Maybe this time he’d die.

He wouldn't see her again. They’d never be sent to the same place. She was perfect and an angel and could do no wrong.

And he was a liar and a cheat who did nothing but hurt every last person around him time after fucking time. 

His mind was cloudy and his limbs were heavy and the woman he’d been with had gone taking his wallet off the counter when she left He’d threatened to kill her. She’d threatened to call the cops. He’d been too high to stand, and she’d been smart enough to run.

But the morning came, bringing the usual hangover with it. And his bottles were empty and his spoons were gone. Fucking bitch took everything with her. He blinked and reached for his phone, wondering why the hell Ollie still bothered paying for it. He knew. He had to fucking know. Another text from a number he didn’t remember. More missed calls from people who pretended to care.

_ ‘Need H,’  _ he sent, not bothering to look at the keypad or the name. He’d texted his dealer enough that he was at the top of his messages list.

‘ _ 5?’ _

_ ‘5.’ _

He glanced at the counter where his wallet had been. God, that whore had better hope to God he didn’t find her again. She’d taken his fucking lifeline.

She’d taken his way out.

He gritted his teeth and gulped down a mouthful of Listerine and hit the name he liked least.  _ ‘Been awhile. Coming to visit.’ _

He opened the medicine cabinet and stared at the little orange bottles. So much potential in such a little space. He unscrewed the lid and tossed the little white pills into his hand, not bothering to see what they were or if they were any good. He crushed him up. He breathed them in. He swore when his phone buzzed and picked it up with shaking hands. God, he hoped the shakes would stop soon…  _ ‘Good to know you’re alive.’ _

Oh, he was well aware of being alive. Painfully, brutally alive. And he was reminded of it every damn second of every damn day when his chest rose and fell while hers couldn’t, while his lungs filled up and burned with whatever the hell he’d forced into them and hers were six feet underground.

He grabbed his keys from the table by the door, knowing full and well he wasn’t good to drive. Maybe he’d get lucky and get pulled over.  

Maybe he’d get luckier and wrap his car around a God-damned tree.

* * *

“Roy,” Ollie smiled and opened the door, and God he wanted to laugh when he saw that smile turn to raw anger. “Did you fucking drive here?”

“Love you too,” he rolled his eyes and stepped inside to the home he’d never really liked to begin with. “I’m fine,” he added as an afterthought. He was the furthest fucking thing from being good to be behind a wheel and that had been the entire fucking point. God, he couldn’t even fuck up right.

“God, you look like hell,” Oliver sighed, and Roy didn’t need to turn around to see him shaking his head, and he tried to remember why he’d bothered to show up in the first place. Sympathy? He didn’t need it. He rolled his eyes when the man stepped in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. “I thought you were past this.”

“Yeah, well you thought wrong,” Roy snapped. Got past it? Like hell. Not a God-damned day had gone by when he didn’t think about picking his habits back up. It had just taken the worst fucking day in his life to push him back over that edge. What was the fucking point in trying anymore? No one to set an example for. Pain he needed to forget left in her place. He took a shaky breath. Losing it wasn’t going to get him what he needed. “I need money.”

“I’m not paying for your fucking drugs,” Ollie shook his head.

“Rent, not drugs,” Roy rolled his eyes. Same difference. He’d spent all his rent money on his drugs. Not that Ollie needed to know that. He watched the man shake his head and run a hand through his hair. He was going to say no. Of course he was going to fucking say no. What had he expected? But he needed him to change his mind. God, he needed Ollie to change his mind because he  _ needed  _ them and he needed to forget and he needed to sleep and never fucking wake up again. “You want something in return?” he asked, voice hitting the desperate pitch he’d only heard it at a handful of times. “I can do that. I can do anything you…” 

His hands were moving without him telling them to. And they’d found their way to Ollie’s belt more as a reflex than a rational movement, and Ollie had grabbed him by the wrists with a, “Roy, what the  _ fuck _ ?”

“Is this what you want?” he’d responded, voice high-pitched and shaking, and God he needed a fucking drink. “Is this what you fucking want from me? Because I can do it if that’s what it takes to be enough for you. I can…” and Ollie had sworn something Roy couldn’t hear and pulled him into a hug he couldn’t break out of and his shoulders were heaving and the sobs were coming before he could stop them.

“Shit, kid,” Ollie had sworn, and it had taken every ounce of strength Roy had left not to collapse in the middle of the fucking floor. “Why the hell would I want you to…” he trailed off, but it didn’t matter because Roy was already going to dead to the world around him. It was all crashing down, crushing him under its weight, and Ollie was going to make him quit again, and he couldn’t quit again because they made everything  _ stop.  _ “You need help,” he sighed, and Roy just nodded because it was easier than trying to fucking fight it. “We’ll get you some help.”

“I want her back,” another crack in his voice that made him hate himself even more.

“I know,” Ollie sighed and helped him onto the floor. “I know.”


End file.
